


Time for wine in the morning

by thevaliantdust



Series: Meanwhile in Whitestone [3]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: GetGilmoreABoyfriend2k16, M/M, lol jk it's mostly flirting, sexy men doing their sexy thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-24 04:22:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7493652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thevaliantdust/pseuds/thevaliantdust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Day 3: M/M</p>
<p>Gilmore/Jarett</p>
<p>Gilmore is pining, but not for long.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time for wine in the morning

He’s torturing himself, really, walking along the tops of these castle walls at night. He tries to tell himself it’s just a walk, just some fresh air, but then he sees the ghost of black wings and a smiling rogue and he can’t quite lie to himself anymore. He’s clinging to memories. And it irks him. 

He’s better than this. He’s handsome, respectable, independent- frankly he’s glorious- and he should not be pining over any man, fate-touched champion of a goddess or not.

Gilmore squares his shoulders, drawing himself up to his full height, and steps confidently onwards to complete his midnight loop of the castle rooftop. Just a walk, he reminds himself.

“An odd time and place for such a strut.”

A warm, accented voice breaks into his introspection and he takes a brief second to gather his face into it’s usual mask before turning to meet his unexpected company.

“Perhaps it's the only time a man can strut in peace,” he returns jovially, the tiniest spark of electricity traveling up his spine as he lays eyes on his conversant. The guard captain of- well, formerly of Greyskull Keep. He may not know the man’s name, but his face is not an unfamiliar sight, nor an unpleasant one.

“Forgive me for intruding,” the says the man with a grin, not a hint of contrition in his voice. “By all means, carry on.” He sweeps his hand out in a graceful arc before him, and for a split second Gilmore swears he sees his lips twitch into teasing smirk.

Hardly one to walk away from good company or conversation, Gilmore decides to play the game. Nothing will cheer him up so quickly as a battle of wits.

“I fear I've lost my strutting mood,” he counters, drawing his mouth into a place somewhere between a grin and a pout. 

“That's a shame,” the man replies, making no attempt to hide the way his eyes flick up and down Gilmore’s form. Undeniable flirt though he might be, the man's attentions still take Gilmore completely by surprise, though he quickly warms to them.

“It’ll return soon enough,” he promises, holding his gaze steady with the rich brown eyes of the guard captain, who allows the corner of his mouth to curl up in acknowledgement.

“Shaun Gilmore,” he introduces himself. If he’s going to be trading words with this man, names ought to be first among them. 

He extends a friendly hand which is met by one a few shades darker, and to Gilmore’s surprise, slightly bigger too. The other man’s grip is warm and firm, and his fingers take their time in curling around his hand, skimming faintly across Gilmore’s palm, leaving a shiver in their wake.

“I know you, Mister Gilmore,” he says smoothly, punctuated with a little flick of his eyebrows. “I’d be poor castle guard if I didn’t know who I should expect to be coming and going,” he appends with a wry grin after a moment of stunned silence stretches between them. His hand falls back to his side.

Gilmore concedes a smile, inclining his head. “Call me Shaun, please.” He tries his best for ‘nonchalant with a hint of flirtatious’ but he’s not quite sure if he makes it.

“Shaun,” the other man repeats, running the name over his tongue like a delicacy. Until this point Gilmore had never thought himself particularly adoring of accents, but it seemed he was learning a lot about himself over the course of this conversation.

“Then you must call me Jarrett.”

Finally, a name to the comely face. Oh and what a name.

“I plan on it.”

Jarrett watches him intently, as if trying to guess his thoughts. Gilmore wonders if he can. (He hopes not). 

He’s about to continue the conversation, perhaps even to surreptitiously suggest some further flirtation, when the guard captain’s eyes shift and lock on to something over his shoulder. Gilmore turns to follow his gaze just as Jarrett speaks.

“Ah, that appears to be the next watch,” he says, and Gilmore resents the way his stomach drops just a little. It has been… fun, trading words and glances with Jarrett, and he’s not quite ready for it to end. Still, he inclines his head gracefully, stepping slightly to the side.

“Well it was good while it lasted,” Gilmore jokes, a teasing goodbye in word and deed. He waits for the guard captain to step past him, perhaps to bid him goodnight, or give him a courteous wave. Instead Jarrett meets his eyes intently.

“I see no reason for it to end just yet.”

Gilmore can feel his eyes widen comically, but he’s too taken aback to do anything about it. Searching his mind for a witty rejoinder he comes up blank. It’s not often someone manages to surprise him this much.

Jarrett takes a step in closer, speaking in a low sultry baritone. “Where I come from, if there is something we want, we take it.” He locks eyes with Gilmore, his meaning plain. “If it is willing to be taken,” he adds with the smallest tilt of his head.

Forcing his heart to beat steady, Gilmore schools his face into a mask of poised amusement. He extends the crook of his arm to Jarrett as if he receives such offers from gorgeous men every other day. (He does not).

“You must tell me more of your culture,” he entreats, “perhaps over a glass of wine? I have the most excellent vintage in my rooms.”

A warm smile of mutual understanding forms on Jarrett’s face. “I’m not one to turn down the offer of good wine,” he says, “nor good company.” Gilmore delights as Jarrett wraps his large hand into the crook of his arm. “Lead on.”

The evening’s sombre musings all but forgotten, Gilmore feels the giddy flutter of newness mix with the sharp tang of the reckless unknown. 

They reach his door and the air is thick with unspoken expectation. Gilmore leads Jarrett inside, using the act of shutting the door as a moment to regain his footing. He’s never been someone to deny himself something he wants, and he can’t deny he wants this.

He turns back to find Jarrett leaning casually in the hallway, his self-assured grin the final straw that tips the scale. Gilmore presses forward with two quick steps, his kiss meeting Jarrett’s waiting lips. Hands find bodies, find each other, find buttons. Clothes lie forgotten, as does the wine that lured them here.

But there is time for that and more in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> I hate that saying 'get over someone by getting under someone else' and yet here I am with this trash


End file.
